


Work Of Art

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2615342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short, cutesy ficlet; Julian is working hard, and Garak delights in watching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Of Art

Garak watches the other man work, his expression thoughtful. Julian is doing nothing out of the ordinary – he is seated in front of his computer, his fingers working quickly and gracefully across the control panel, and occasionally he grasps at a PADD in order to note something down: it is not his _work_ that Garak is interested in.

Julian is sat up straight in his chair, and although his focus on his posture is not conscious, it is most certainly a learned behaviour – this is no doubt in order that whilst working for hours on end he not strain his back or hurt a muscle or two, as he had done the first time he'd come to the station. His hands are charming in their beautiful movements, his shoulders squared, his neck arched as he turns his head here and back.

The good doctor's expression is firmly concentrated, his lovely brows furrowed as he glances between the several monitors before him; his lips are pressed tightly together as his eyes flick back and forth.

He's working on some vaccine or other, and he has been in his place for two hours or so, without so much as _glancing_ away from his computer, but it is pleasant to see the doctor work with such dedication, with such concentration. Doctor Bashir does so adore his work for all his complaints now and then, and to see that passion is a pleasant prize.

“Are you going to keep watching me, Garak?” Julian asks without looking away, and he continues with his task despite having noticed the Cardassian in his peripheral vision, or perhaps having heard Garak's breathing or his feet upon the floor. “Surely I'm not that entertaining.”

“Oh, on the _contrary_ , my dear, you're positively a work of art.” comes Garak's easy retort as he makes his way forwards, his hands slowly coming to the back of the young doctor's shoulders; he massages the flesh under that pesky uniform, and Julian lets out a soft, pleased sigh, but does not cease his work; Garak wouldn't have wanted him to do that.

“Glad you think so.”

“When will you finish for the night, my dear doctor?”

“Half an hour or so.” Julian answers in a light and pleasant tone, and then says, “Would you like to go have dinner with me, in Vic's?” Vic Fontaine is a very fascinating being, hologram or no, and Garak is hardly going to refuse _that._

“That sounds lovely.” Garak murmurs, and he drags his hand over the back of the other's neck as he walks away, pleased as he moves to lay out a more _attractive_ outfit for Julian to wear to the holosuite.

Julian Bashir was a work of art, after all, but even the best pieces could be ruined by too awful a frame. 


End file.
